The First Rule of Hook-Ups

by Nina Crespo

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  If you love sexy romance, one-click these steamy Brazen releases… Wrong Bed, Right Roommate

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  Wrong Bed, Right Guy

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Nina Crespo. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  rights@entangledpublishing.com

  Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Brenda Chin

  Cover design by KAM Designs

  Cover photography by

  aarrttuurr/Deposit Photos

  Gordan/Bigstock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-693-4

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition November 2018

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  To all of my she-roes, wine-chat besties, ride-or-die “side-chicks”, and true mother-sister-friends.

  Prologue

  Alexandra Cayne smoothed the long white tulle and organza skirt of her sleeveless wedding gown. This is it. In a half hour, she was getting married. No pretend vows like when she was younger and said “I do” to a picture of one of her favorite celebrity crushes—Usher or Mario Lopez. A stuffed animal wasn’t at the altar filling in for the ordained minister, and bridesmaid Barbie was nowhere in sight. Just her two best friends.

  Natalie, her matron of honor, tucked a wayward strand of Alexa’s black hair into her elaborate updo. “You can’t get any better than this.” A halter-style, peach chiffon dress brought a warm glow to Nat’s brown complexion and complemented her curves. “You’re beautiful.”

  “She’s right. You’re stunning.” Corinne, her other maid of honor, dressed similarly to Nat, fussed over Alexa’s chapel-length train. She’d toned down her short, coiled hair from blue to platinum for the occasion. “It seems like you just got engaged.”

  “And now the day is here.” Butterflies kicked up in Alexa’s stomach. Time had zipped by as if it had been only a few months instead of a year.

  Her mom and Brad’s had gone straight into overdrive once they’d taken over planning the wedding. The two women had obsessed over every tiny detail, from the right shade of blue for her lace garter to the length of the flower stems in the arrangements. They’d even updated the decor in the room at the church where she now dressed to include a sumptuous rose-colored sofa, Queen Anne mirror, and glass-topped furnishings. The ceremony and reception were bound to be just as perfect.

  Alexa smoothed the lace bodice of the dress. The tiny hand-sewn pearls and crystals attached to it winked in the sunlight streaming through the window. She really did look like a fairy-tale princess. Still, despite all the careful planning, worry about the wedding plagued her. It was as if she were staring at a crooked picture on a wall, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t level it out.

  The anxiety Alexa had fought for weeks welled inside of her. She adjusted the pearl choker that had suddenly grown too tight. Something old. The restrung necklace, a gift from her parents, had belonged to her deceased paternal grandmother. Her dress was new. She wore something blue. But what had been loaned to her for the occasion? Old, new, borrowed, blue. Wasn’t it bad luck to screw up tradition? She struggled to breathe.

  Cori grabbed her hand. “Are you okay? Do you need water? Are you too warm? I can open a window. Did you eat today? Do you want a sandwich? I can make a run to that place around the block.”

  “Seriously? A sandwich?” Nat’s expression grew exasperated. Dark auburn curls brushed her shoulder as she shook her head. “Could you please dial it down from hyper to near normal, at least until the reception?”

  “But she could pass out.”

  “I’m good.” Alexa forced a laugh and waved away their concerns. If only she could wave away her own as easily.

  Her mom took tradition just as seriously as keeping up appearances. The borrowed part had to be covered. With all the details her mom, her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and the wedding planner had thrown at her about the ceremony and reception, she just couldn’t remember which item fit the criteria.

  Alexa pressed her palms to her waist and took a deep breath. “Pour the champagne.”

  “Okay, but we can’t drink too much.” Cori grabbed a bottle from a silver bucket on the side table and filled the three flutes sitting beside it. “Champagne plus you two equals trouble. She grinned. “I’m still surprised we didn’t get tossed out of Club Escapade last month during the Hot Body Hunks’ performance.”

  Nat picked up two glasses and huffed a laugh. “Drooling over gorgeous male strippers is what you’re supposed to do at a male revue show, right Alexa?”

  “Sure.” Alexa nodded, accepting the champagne.

  They’d made so much noise the night of her bachelorette celebration, the performers had singled them out for a game on stage. Musical Hotties. It was similar to musical chairs, but when the song stopped, the goal was to end up on the lap of a Hot Body Hunk. She’d landed on the dark-haired performer with the heart-stopping green eyes several times. What was his name? Raphael the Dream Maker. Her prize for winning was a special lap dance, courtesy of him. At the end, he’d placed his cowboy hat on her head and kissed her.

  Alexa’s lips tingled in remembrance. Wait! What was wrong with her? Thinking about a random guy on her wedding day? Heat warmed her face. She was marrying Bradley Holloway. They’d build their lives—as well as the company their fathers owned, NorthStar Transportation Solutions—together.

  Nat held up her flute. “What should we drink to?”

  Alexa held up hers. “Friendship.”

  As an only child, Nat and Cori were the closest thing Alexa had to sisters. They’d cheered her on as she’d earned the carrier relations director position at NorthStar, allayed her doubts about dating Brad even though he was the son of her father’s silent business partner as well as her coworker, and they’d all climbed aboard the same dating roller coaster to find love at the end of the ride. Cori lived with her
soul mate. Nat was married to the man of her dreams. And today, Alexa would tie the knot too.

  “Everything is changing so much between us.” Tears pricked in Alexa’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

  “We’re here for you.” Cori wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “We’ll still meet for lunch, spa days, and girls’ nights.”

  Nat bumped Alexa’s hip. “Translation. You can’t kick us to the curb that easily. Come on. Let’s make this toast before Momzillas One and Two hunt us down.” She lifted her flute. “Here’s to love.”

  They clinked glasses, and Alexa took a sip of champagne. It was time to do this.

  Suddenly, her mother barged through the closed door. The skirt of her pink dress fluttered around her legs, and her dark hair, which had been perfectly styled earlier, hung askew.

  “Mom.” Alexa hurried over to her, Cori in tow. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Dad?”

  Her mother held up a crumpled blue paper in a death grip. “It’s Brad.”

  Chapter One

  Six months later

  Alexa raised a mojito in a toast. “Love sucks.”

  Nat sat next to her at the square, white linen-covered table. She lifted a glass of chardonnay. “I’ll co-sign on that.”

  “Me too.” Cori, also with them, slurped a frozen drink.

  Laughter and conversation echoed in the semi-darkened private room at Club Escapade. The Breakup Bash—a party to help women get over one man and move on to a better one—was in full swing. Women mingled around the corner bar and danced to Beyoncé’s latest hit in front of the DJ booth next to a gold-curtained stage. The Hot Body Hunks male revue show was scheduled to perform a little later in the evening.

  Alexa struggled to match the upbeat atmosphere. Who would’ve guessed the three of them would end up sharing the same bad luck with relationships? Nat had gone through a nasty divorce. Cori no longer lived with her boyfriend. But she was the dumbest one of them all. On her wedding day, her main concern had been making sure she had something old, new, borrowed, and blue. Meanwhile, some woman named Karma Sunflower had permanently borrowed Brad.

  A couple of months before the wedding, when he’d developed an interest in health and started shopping at the organic market, she’d viewed it as a positive. She’d even cut back on French fries, given up sugar, and eaten tofu in solidarity with him. But all along, he’d been playing her for a fool. She should have grown more suspicious when boxes of his so-called favorite granola cereal disappeared in a couple of days instead of weeks. No one needed that much fiber, including full-of-shit Brad.

  Alexa sank back into the black padded chair. The brilliant solitaire on her finger had kept her enthralled with the promise of a perfect future. What a joke. “Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea. This is one of the last places that I hung out as a delusional bride-to-be.”

  “No.” Cori plunked down her glass, and a slice of pineapple fell off the rim. “This party is just what we need. Maybe some Hasta la Vista cocktails will put us into the mood. Or maybe champagne. Ooh, that sounds even better. I’ll get some.” She sprang from her seat. Purple and green strobe lights reflected in her neon-blue hair. The narrow skirt of her short yellow minidress, and blue death-defying, high-heeled pumps, shortened her steps.

  Nat flipped her hair then straightened the shoulder strap of her burgundy top. Her gold-and-silver earrings reflected the lights. “Good thing we took a Lyft and didn’t count on Cori being our designated driver. She’s really celebrating tonight.”

  “She’s supposed to help me pack tomorrow. Too many hasta la vistas and I’ll have to count her out.”

  “Staying distracted is her way of handling things. At least she’s not depressed anymore. We all needed this.” Sadness flashed in Nat’s eyes.

  Alexa felt her pain and then some. Maybe consuming multiple hasta la vistas was the right idea. Alcohol might help her forget her humiliation, too.

  Nat brought a plate of cubed cheese and crackers closer to them. “Are you sure about this moving thing? Seattle is a big step.”

  “I’m embracing new horizons.”

  Nat munched on a cracker. “New horizons are about running toward what you do want, not running away from what you don’t. You’ve never talked about leaving before.”

  “I’m not running. I need a change of pace, and this job offer is too good to pass up. NorthStar only transports freight in the northeast. Vannett Incorporated operates nationally. As the head of carrier relations for them, I’ll have more responsibility and a bigger paycheck.”

  “And you won’t have to deal with Brad and his hippy-dippy side piece when they show up six weeks from now.”

  “That’s an added bonus.”

  Seeing her ex anytime soon was the last thing she wanted to do. As far as meeting Karma face-to-face, she’d imagined everything from slapping her to forcing her to eat a pound of sugar. Non-organic, of course. But most of her anger was at Brad. He’d not only betrayed her as a fiancé, but also as a friend.

  Though their fathers had been business associates for years, their paths had not crossed until they were sixteen. Brad had attended school in London and rarely came to the States. When he’d visited his father and mother for Christmas three years ago, she’d been tasked as his plus one for numerous social events. They’d gotten along well. Six months later, he’d joined NorthStar’s marketing team, and their relationship had progressed.

  She and Brad had been able to talk about anything and everything…at least, that’s what she’d believed. He should have told her, without all the drama, that he didn’t want to get married. The revelation would have stung, but she would have forgiven him, even respected his honesty. What he’d done instead felt like a stab in the back as well as the heart.

  Nat nudging her arm pulled Alexa from the past. “Hopefully all this change includes a new man.” She brushed crumbs from the lap of her skinny jeans. “You’re twenty-seven, hot as hell, and single. Don’t let opportunity pass you by. Indulge.”

  Dating. Not this topic again. “I’m here with you guys to see the Hot Body Hunks. Doesn’t that count?” The poster she’d spotted near the entrance featured a photo of twelve shirtless, muscular guys wearing jeans. Unfortunately, Raphael the Dream Maker wasn’t among them. Seeing him again might have lifted her spirits. “Love those earrings. Are they new?”

  “You know they’re not. You bought them, and you’re wearing the same pair. Stop trying to change the subject.”

  Alexa fiddled with one of her gold-and-silver earrings. “I’m not interested in falling in love again.”

  “Who said anything about love? This is about leaving a total dick for more satisfying cock and less worries. It’s about getting rid of jackasses who aren’t worth a damn and most important of all…” Nat held up her wineglass. “Freedom!”

  The women around them whooped and applauded.

  Alexa pulled down Nat’s arm. “Will you stop.”

  “No. You stop. It’s perfectly okay to ride a man into a better future. Preferably in the midst of an orgasm. That’s what this celebration is all about, and you need to get on board.” Nat plucked a condom, with Do Me printed on the red packaging, from the floral centerpiece. “That’s why it’s called the Breakup Bash.”

  …

  Rafe Dumond patrolled the black-walled, white-tiled lobby of Club Escapade.

  The muted thump of dance music reverberated in the low-lit space.

  A group of women sauntered past the floor-to-ceiling, faux cylinder waterfalls glowing in various shades of green and blue, heading for the red carpeted hallway on the other side of the expansive space. It led to Escapade West, an area for private parties. And tonight, it had been rented by two recently divorced party planners, who’d wanted to uplift women going through relationship issues. They’d decided to host a Breakup Bash.

  Earlier, he’d caught a glimpse of a dark-haired woman in a purple minidress walking in that direction. His imagination had
filled in the rest. Flawless brown skin. Beautiful dark eyes. Lush, plum-colored lips he still craved after just one kiss. Damn. He never should have agreed to settle that poker bet he owed his business partner, Shannon, by coming out of retirement and dancing with the Hot Body Hunks during their performance at the club seven months ago. Even with all the time that had passed, he still couldn’t forget the bride-to-be he’d brought on stage for a lap dance. No. The woman in purple wasn’t her. She wouldn’t be at an event celebrating breakups.

  She was probably a happy newlywed, living in a mini-mansion in some expensive gated community, planning how many kids to have with her suit-and-tie husband. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He even remembered her name. Alexa.

  Rafe spun around and pushed open the double doors behind him. As he stalked into Escapade East, the main part of the club, he shoved the memories of the woman who haunted him into the recesses of his mind. The vibration from pop music and the energy from the partiers waved over him.

  Colorfully dressed go-go dancers on platforms high above the dance area hyped up the crowd. Business boomed at the four neon-lit bars interspersed along the outer edge. Every private booth upstairs, as well as the tables below surrounding the dance floor, were full.

  Pride swelled inside of him. Four years ago, he and Shannon had both sunk their savings into converting the two-story, downtown corner building into a place featuring the best DJs, biggest dance floor, and multiple bars serving up the latest trends in alcoholic drinks.

  Many of their acquaintances had doubted that his past as a stripper and club promoter, and hers as a fashion model, would allow them to succeed. Hard work, along with the strength of their friendship to survive the rough spots, had earned them the right to tell the haters to go fuck themselves. They’d established Club Escapade as one of the hottest places for twenty- and thirtysomethings to party in the D.C./Maryland/Virginia area.

  “Rafe, this is Xan.” The head of security’s gravelly voice came through Rafe’s headset. He pressed the button on the small device clipped to the waistband of his navy slacks. “Go ahead, Xan.”